amnesty (truth doesn't make a noise)
by TheVerbalThing ComesAndGoes
Summary: He still calls her "Emily" and she admits to him, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that she hasn't felt like "Amanda" in years. ...A reconnection, after the truth comes out. Daniel/Emily; AUish (from "Ambush" onward).
1. Detenté

**A/N:** some dialogue taken from the episodes _Ambush_ , _Contact,_ and _Intel_

This started out as a one shot, but it kind of evolved into more. I doubt this will be any more than two chapters, though

* * *

amnesty _(noun) -_ a forgetting or overlooking of any past offense.

 _..._

 _"Truth is the only safe ground to stand upon."_

 _-_ Elizabeth Cady Stanton

It's an odd feeling, knowing all of the facts and bare bones about someone, but still not being sure about who they are, as a person.

Even in the wake of learning Emily's true identity, Daniel figures that there has to be some truths that remain, things that were innate to who she was, no matter what name she went by.

He recalls the way she would clean at night whenever she couldn't sleep. Or how she always seemed to be wearing white but he is pretty sure her favorite color is any shade of blue. And of course, Daniel will always remember being able to sense the kind of mood she was in by the way she kissed him, whether she was angry or upset or even feeling a little melancholy, even if she'd never tell him the full reason behind those emotions. Those are the things he believes to be true; after all, there was only so much about herself that she could fake.

(At least that's what Daniel wants to believe.)

But then again, what he _doesn't_ know about her could probably fill the shelves of the expansive library at Grayson Manor.

He doesn't know what she wanted to be when she was little; doesn't know if she ever had the chance to imagine a life ripe with the possibility of being anything she wanted before his parents put an end to her childhood in one fell swoop.

Finding out that Emily Thorne is Amanda Clarke asks more questions than it answers and even while it fills in a few of the gaps and blanks regarding the life of his mysterious ex-wife, there is still so much that Daniel doesn't know about her.

And try as he might to fight it, there is still so much more that he wants to know.

It's probably strange — at the very least it's twisted, Daniel realizes — that, even after he learns the truth about who Emily Thorne _really_ is, even in spite of all his anger and resentment towards her and the things she's done, Daniel still can't quite bring himself to hate her.

He hates what she did, hates that she played him for such a fool for so long. He hates that there was some merit to her lack of trust in him, that ultimately, he gave her a reason to align herself against him in her pursuit of revenge and retribution for his parents' sins. Mostly, Daniel hates that he proved himself to be a Grayson, through and through, on the night of their ill-fated wedding with the precision of two bullets aimed towards her.

(And mostly, he hates that, in spite of everything that Emily has done, he still can't stop wondering just how much of their relationship was real, or if she only ever saw him as a means to an end.)

Daniel isn't entirely sure which is fueling him to track Emily down, whether it's his desire for answers or his need for distance from the brewing battle between Emily and his mother. Even still, he can't help but feel just a little bit smug once he catches the look of surprise that briefly crosses Emily's features after the elevator doors close behind them. There's a part of him— that good old Grayson arrogance— that can't resist letting her know that he does possess the ability to get on her level.

"I don't have time for this." She's dismissive; her decision to brush him off has already been made. But Daniel finds he isn't ready to let her do that. Not yet.

"I think you do."

He's not thinking, really, when he slips his hand around her wrist to try to stop her from leaving the elevator and one of the few truly honest conversations they've ever had— probably the first. Emily lets slip another version of herself that he probably was never supposed to see; even as she out maneuvers him and twists his arm behind his back, Daniel finds himself filled with an odd sort of admiration that even his underestimation of her has layers.

"I don't have to explain anything to you."

"And I'm not asking you to," he denies, taking a step away from her.

"So why _are_ you here, then?"

"Because in this nuclear war you have going on with my mother, the blast zone keeps getting bigger and bigger, and I really don't want to be a part of it. ...And while you're both busy plotting to make each other's lives hell, I'm trying to separate myself from my family's sins. I would think that you of all people would understand what it means to be defined by them."

Emily eyes him with a measure of apprehension. " _…_ So keep you out of it, that's all you want?"

He nods. "That's all I want."

"Fine. Done. You won't even cross my mind." Somehow the sound of that doesn't bring him as much relief as he thought it would.

They say the opposite of love isn't hate, but indifference — unfortunately, when it comes to Emily, indifference is the last thing that Daniel feels towards her. Even after their divorce was finalized, and he was still living under the impression that Emily was just some grifter who wanted to marry into the Grayson fortune, there was still a part of him that longed for her- in spite of it all. (It was only his wounded pride that kept him from allowing anyone else to know just how much he still missed her.)

Somehow, knowing the truth about who she is and what she's come from has forced him to change perspective, forced him to see things in a way that he'd never really considered before.

 _This_ was the ultimate truth: revealing her identity; and ironically enough, it served as a mirror for Daniel to find out who he really was, at the bottom of the hour, when it really counted. And he held that mirror up to face himself and the shame he felt, however delayed and suppressed it had been until now, was almost overwhelming.

He's known a portion of the truth — that his parents had made a choice years ago: that they could either take responsibility for the downing of Flight 197 or set up someone else to take the fall — for a long time now. And for almost that same amount of time, Daniel had dismissed it; because David Clarke was dead and buried and, as far as he knew, his daughter, Amanda, was a lost cause.

The night that Daniel's father sat him down and told him about what they did to David (and, by extension, his daughter) Daniel was given a choice. And so he chose upholding a false legacy over integrity because it was easier to hide than to face what it really means to be a Grayson: that surviving is all that matters, no matter the consequences, no matter who gets destroyed in the process. The ends will always justify the means for a Grayson, as long as it means getting through another day without having to face the reality of their cowardice.

But Daniel doesn't have the luxury of hiding anymore. He's out of places to hide from his sins and those of his family, and he has Emily to thank for that. There's a part of him that's angry about her lies and deception, and yet another (larger _)_ part of him that's relieved for it all to be over, the secrets and the lies, for everything to be out in the open.

He's relieved that he can _breathe_ again.

He was different, before that night — _they_ were different — and looking back on that time between him and Emily now, without his ego blocking his vision, Daniel can't believe he didn't see it before. There was a difference between the woman who said yes to his proposal during a summer storm with tears in her eyes and no concern for the rain ruining her dress or matting her curls and the Emily who, a year later, said yes as though she were merely holding up her end of a business transaction.

But now he knows the truth: he couldn't see it then because he didn't want to _._

 _We throw parties and give ourselves awards to cover up the truth: that we're not special. We're cowards_. It wasn't pretty, but it was the truth and once Daniel learned of who Emily was, who she _really_ was, the realization that he was never really close to being as good of a man as he would like to be or thought he was _—_ that he was actually closer to being more like his father than being different (better) than him _—_ is what Daniel thinks hurts him the most.

Well, almost.

 _("_ _ _…_ No matter what happens between us __— whether we last a week, a year, ten years, forever_ __—_ I'll always be honest with you.")_

 _"…_ Was any of it real?" he wonders out loud, wanting to know, _needing_ to know.

"Nothing comes to mind," she retorts, her tone almost light and airy. Except that she hasn't looked him in the eye from the moment he stepped onto this elevator with her and when he asks her about the night that he proposed _—_ the first time _—_ he only just catches the look of vulnerability in her eyes before she blinks and then it's gone. Deflection is just another one of her vices, apparently, and even in an enclosed space with no doors, no windows, and no exits, Emily does everything she can to avoid him.

"What about when I proposed to you the first time?"

"Daniel _—_ " She shakes her head, keeping her gaze directed towards the floor.

"You can't tell me you weren't with me in that moment," he insists, "that it wasn't real between us."

He honestly doesn't know why he's pushing this _—_ there was a time not that long ago when he practically cursed the name "Emily Thorne" on a daily basis. But Charlotte's revelation that " _Emily Thorne"_ is actually, in fact, _Amanda Clarke_ changed that sentiment almost overnight, affecting him in a way that he never would have anticipated. Daniel knows that he should be running away from his ex-wife, a wrecking ball in human form. He knows that any sane, logical person would be doing all that they could to get away from her after getting news like that.

(But as usual when it comes to Emily, Daniel's interest is never fully satisfied, his curiosity is never completely sated; he's always found himself wanting to know more.)

"Okay, fine. You want to know the truth? The _truth_ is that there may have been a time where my feelings for you were genuine, but any chance of us having _anything_ real went out the door the moment you aligned yourself with your father - even after he told you the truth about Flight 197, that he and your mother did everything within their power to make sure that it was _my_ father who went down for it."

He doesn't know what to say to that, exactly.

His breath catches in his throat at the ferocity of her words, the intensity in her eyes. A halting _"I'm sorry,"_ slips out of his mouth, but it seems so...inadequate. And incomplete.

"For what?" she asks flippantly. "You only ever did what was expected of you."

The truth, that he apparently lived up to Emily's already low expectations of him, stings in spite of the fact that, deep down, it's something Daniel already knew to be true about himself.

Still, in spite of all the anger and resentment that still exists between them, Daniel finds that he still can't quite bring himself to regret her.

He _does_ regret that his and Emily's lives seemed to have been predetermined by his parents' actions and the choices they've made _—_ in spite of how those choices would affect the lives of the people around them. He regrets that because of his father's decisions and his mother's cowardice, Emily never stood a chance at having anything close to resembling a normal life (and in turn, they never really had a chance, either). What he regrets the most is time wasted and missed opportunities.

And he's starting to think that he's had enough regrets to last a lifetime.

* * *

Curiosity gets the best of him and, without really giving it much thought, Daniel allows his feet to take him down a path he's probably walked a hundred times before _—_ the same path that he had, at one point not too long ago, resolutely swore that he never would walk down again.

As he walks towards Emily's beach house, he finds that it's not regret that's fueling his actions this time and he's no longer blinded by hatred, either. No, instead, Daniel finds that he is filled with an inexplicable longing, and an overwhelming need to know ( _more_ , _why, how_ ) that has been guiding most of his decisions lately, causing him to actively seek Emily out _—_ rather than doing the expected and sensible thing to do, which would be to avoid her at all cost.

(Then again, he's never really been all that good at staying away from her.)

"…I'm having a distinct feeling of déjà vu right about now," he says by way of announcing himself once he catches sight of her, partially facing away from him and standing on her porch, seeming to be in deep thought.

"Daniel," she exhales through a sigh, turning to face him more fully. Oddly enough, she doesn't seem too surprised to see him here. "...I thought we had a deal, and that _you_ were gonna stay out of this."

"We do, and I am," he insists, to which she raises an eyebrow in disbelief. He puts his hands up in a motion of 'surrender', conceding to a momentary ceasefire. "Look, I don't want to fight with you, Emily," he admits softly, finding that it's strangely true.

She narrows her eyes for a moment before nodding her head in acceptance. "Okay, then, why _are_ you here?"

"Honestly?"

She nods, waiting for him to continue. "I was feeling a little guilty about not visiting my mother in the hospital, so I started walking but only made it as far as this beach. I looked over, saw you, and…curiosity got the best of me," he surmises with a shrug.

 _"_ Well, now that your _curiosity_ is satisfied, you can go. The hospital's only a few miles that way," she dismisses, pointing in the direction from which he came. But, instead of following her direction, Daniel climbs the stairs leading up to the porch and stands beside her, mirroring her stance by leaning against the porch railing. Emily swipes quickly at her cheeks, keeping her head down, but he's close enough to notice her slightly reddened eyes before she looks away again.

"Wait a minute, are you crying because my mother _survived_?" he asks, not entirely sure himself if he's joking or not _._ "I heard you made it to the hospital. You wanted to see your handiwork?"

"No," she denies with a slight smirk that she tries to hide. "Only karma can claim responsibility for that."

"So what is this about then?" he asks, referring to the tears she tried to hide from him. Emily bit down on her bottom lip and suddenly it clicked. "Oh. You finally told your father the truth, didn't you?" Her continued silence is the answer he needs. "Listen _,_ I know firsthand that you can fake tears, but I bet real ones don't come easy." He ignores her quiet scoff in response to his observation.

"What's your point?"

"You had expectations and… whether he meant to or not, your father failed to meet them." _I can relate_ , he thinks. "You dedicated your entire life to avenging a father you barely knew. What exactly did you expect to happen?"

"I don't know! Maybe I expected to at least have a _chance_ to get to know him or _—_ " Emily cuts herself off with a quick shake of the head, trying (and failing) to mask her frustration and disappointment. " _Something_."

She used to be better at hiding herself from him _,_ Daniel recalls. But maybe this is the difference between the facade that he knew and the woman who exists underneath it.

"…But, hey, at least I had the guts to stand up to your vile mother," she suddenly digs at him. Daniel looks up in surprise and annoyance. "Something _you_ never had the courage to do."

"You always did try to save me from her."

"And you just kept crawling back."

"Says the girl who's practically obsessed with her." Emily scoffs a denial, shaking her head. She moves towards the steps, once again ready to walk out on another conversation with him that she's deemed too much of a hassle to actually finish.

He doesn't know who he's more annoyed with: her, for walking away again, or himself, for allowing the fact that she's walking away to get under his skin. "Oh, so that's it, is it? One fight with Dad and you're giving up? Okay, great. Well, glad to know the hell you put me through was all for nothing. What a waste."

She whirls back around to face him at that, apparently no longer in desperate need of a fast escape. _"_ Oh, screw you, Daniel," she snaps. "You have _no idea_ what your family put me and my father through."

"Of course not!" he rails, frustration bleeding through his voice. "How could I possibly have known? You never gave me the chance. For the three years that I've known you _—_ _thought_ that I knew you _—_ you haven't told me a single real thing about yourself. There's never been a level playing field between us."

"That is _not_ true _—_ "

"Isn't it? So, tell me, do I just call you Amanda from now on?" he demands, to which she responds with silence and a clenched jaw. "...For god's sake, Emily, I don't even know your real birthday."

"So, what, you think if you did know, then we would still be together? You're not that naive."

"...No," he answers hesitantly. "But maybe we would've had a shot at something real. Then again, that's not what you wanted. I mean, we were doomed from the start, weren't we?"

"What do you want from me, Daniel?" It's the question of the hour; the same thing he's been asking himself for a while now. But he has yet to come up with an answer that makes any sense.

"I don't know. I just know that I regret the way we ended up... the things I said and did and the person I turned into. ...I don't know if you can say the same."

There is a moment where Emily looks caught, almost as if she's about to reveal something, but she shakes her head and it's gone. "...Does it matter?" she deflects instead. Of course. He shouldn't have expected anything more to come from this.

"Guess not," he returns with a shake of his head. He starts to walk back down the porch stairs, making his way back down the path he'd come.

"...I don't regret doing what needed to be done to clear my father's name," she calls out to his back. He turns around just as Emily admits, quietly, "...But I am sorry for hurting you."

Daniel can only nod. While he'll admit that it hurts a little - okay, if he's being honest, more than a little - to hear that Emily has no regrets about the actions she took, he's glad that she can be honest with him now. He hadn't realized how much he needed it.

"You know, for what it's worth," he acknowledges, "I am, too."

He guesses, for now, that will have to be enough.

* * *

He finally takes his mother's call and accepts her request to come visit, Emily's words playing in the back of his mind for the duration of their talk. " _At least I had the guts to stand up to your vile mother."_

Daniel tells his mother that he only wants distance and she responds in kind, making a play for an old favorite of hers: emotional blackmail in the form of a thinly veiled attempt at reverse psychology.

Unfortunately for Victoria, Daniel has long since stopped being in denial about who his mother is, the woman who exists beyond the careful facade she's hidden behind throughout his life. There's also the fact that Emily's secret revealed more than just the truth about her nature _—_ it also unveiled so much more dark truths about his mother. And Daniel will never forget that _she's_ the one who set this in motion decades ago, the moment she sold out the man she claimed to love and framed him as a terrorist, all to remain on top of the Grayson throne.

"You were wrong, you know. I'm not alone," Victoria informs him, quietly triumphant. "I have David."

But Daniel isn't convinced. "...Really? Even now, after he's reunited with Emily?"

"You keep waiting for blow-back, Daniel, but it hasn't happened."

"Hasn't happened _yet_ you mean," he corrects.

"And it _won't_. I know that this started out as revenge, but I do love David, and I will do anything to make him happy... even if it means being a doting stepmother."

"So what are we talking here? Christmas at the beach house?" he replies with a sneer. His mother's delusions know no bounds. "You'll make the ham?"

"If that's what it takes. I almost died, Daniel. And I am sick of being miserable. I want peace and a new life with David."

"So, that's why you're here," he surmises, realization dawning. _Of course. She needs something._ "You want me to fall in line to help aid your lie and complete your twisted Norman Rockwell?"

"It is not a lie _—"_

"Fantasy, then."

Victoria looks at him with narrowed eyes, her mouth set into a firm line. "I won't beg, Daniel but you _are_ my son and I want you in my life no matter what."

"Look, I am telling you right now that what you have with David can't last. Your whole relationship is built on lies. He'll eventually choose Emily, and she will destroy you before she lets you become a part of David's life. She all but told me last night."

"So, you want distance from _me,_ but you're speaking to Emily now? What was that about a "relationship built on lies"?" she demands, almost snidely, tossing his own critique back at him.

"I'm not trying to get back together with Emily," Daniel insists and while it may be technically true, something about the statement feels off, in a way. He shifts in his seat out of discomfort, more than ready for this conversation to be over.

"Well, I have lost everyone: Patrick, Charlotte... even you, it seems. I will not lose David, too."

Daniel sighs, feeling as resigned as much as she seems to be determined. "Well, mother, then I guess all I can say is: May the best woman win."

 _I know I'm rooting for her._

* * *

Daniel is sitting at the bar of the new beach club _—_ which is apparently now owned by Nolan Ross _—_ mulling over the conversations he's had with his mother and Emily, respectively and all of the events that have transpired from the day Emily spilled that drink on his jacket, up until he learned the truth behind just how interwoven their lives really were.

He thinks of his mother and David; wonders if a man who'd been to hell and back could honestly find it within himself to forgive the woman who put him there. He then thinks of his own actions lately, which have been a contradiction to his strong insistence on not wanting to be around Emily and her revenge schemes, when he notices her sliding into the seat next to his. _Speak of the devil._

She meets his gaze, acknowledging the drink in front of him (and the two empty glasses next to it) with a barely raised eyebrow and a slight nod. "Rough night?" she asks, her expression and tone unreadable. "What are you doing here?"

Daniel shrugs. "I'm just here, drinking to my sad life. ...And to our parents, who I'm starting to believe just might actually be in love," he says with a smirk. He raises a glass of scotch in a half-assed salute. He's not drunk, but he's always been a bit more blunt after he's had some scotch.

"Oh please," Emily dismisses. "You don't really believe that?"

He shakes his head, but other than that doesn't really give a response. He's not sure if he even really believes what he's saying or if he's just trying to get a reaction out of her. (That does seem to be his default setting these days.)

"...You look good," he says instead of giving her an answer. It's a compliment and an accusation rolled in one. "You going out on a date? Want me to call the poor guy and read him his last rites?"

She scoffs lightly, putting down her drink. She's halfway finished already and idly Daniel wonders if there's any correlation between that and whatever scheme she has planned for tonight. He wonders if it still bothers her _—_ playing a role of deceit in order to get what she wants _—_ or if she's long since shut off that part of herself, rendering it nonexistent. "You know, I'm really not in the mood to be doing whatever this is that we've been doing lately, so _—_ "

"Oh, what? You mean having honest conversations, probably for the first time in... _ever?_ Yeah, that sucks. You know, I think I'm finally starting to realize why we didn't work out."

"Really?" she demands, though not unkindly.

"We're the same," he continues instead.

She laughs, a sound as genuine as the scoff of disbelief that follows. "You and I are nothing alike."

"Come on; we are! You may not want to believe it but, yeah, we are. I mean, we're both stubborn as hell and we both use people to get what we want without giving a damn about who gets hurt in the process."

He can't tell if she's simply surprised by his assessment of them (of her, really) or if she believes there's any truth to his words. "...That is not who I am."

"Oh, but it is. _I see you,_ Emily," he insists, watching as Emily seems to shift uneasily in response. "So tell me, who are you hurting these days? You know what _—_ I'll go first. So Margaux, the best woman I've been with in years, no offense," he adds hastily, though once again he's not sure if he means it or if he's just trying to get under her skin. He knows his feelings for Margaux have always seemed to be tame in comparison to whatever he felt for Emily and that certainly hasn't changed. "Well, she wants nothing more to do with me because I'm an ass."

Emily scoffs lightly. "Well, we're not friends, Daniel, so I'm not gonna prop you up and tell you to go fight for Margaux. Besides," she adds, bringing her drink to her lips, "you don't fight for anything."

"Huh. Ouch." He's unprepared for the brief sting he feels at her seemingly casual and detached assessment of him. But as his mind recalls the night she called off their engagement the first time around _—_ and the lack of protest he gave when she handed him the ring back in spite of his gut, mind, and heart all screaming at him not to take it _—_ he has to admit she's right.

"Yeah, well, _'I see you,_ ' too." She stands up to leave but this time when he slips his hand around hers, gently this time, to stop her from leaving, she doesn't pull away. "Hey, Em." Instead she looks at him, an expression in her eyes that Daniel can't quite interpret.

"...You know," he continues, "you really do look pretty tonight...which makes me think that means you're up to something. I just hope that, whoever he is, the poor guy isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve. Because if he is, trust me, you'll use it against him."

* * *

Later that night, there's a knock on his hotel room door.

"Emily." Her name leaves his lips in the form of both a statement and a question all at once.

She's certainly not the first person he's expecting to see when he opens the door, but Daniel can admit - to himself, at least - that Emily is not an unwelcome sight, either.

He doesn't know what it is that they've been doing lately, wouldn't be able to define what's been happening between them if anyone were to ask him; but in spite of everything, his curiosity about where this is headed outweighs whatever caution and apprehension he should probably have about her being here.

"Mind if I come in?"

Despite his immediate instinct to say yes and give in, he waits, choosing instead to ask her, "What are you doing here?"

She shrugs, shifting her stance and leaning against the doorway; as she appears to be weighing her answer, she also almost seems...nervous. " _…_ Curiosity got the best of me," she says softly, echoing his sentiment from a few nights ago.

Daniel nods and gestures for her to come in, though there's a split second of hesitation before she complies. Her bare shoulder brushes against his chest as she walks past him and further into the suite to sit next to him on the couch.

"So why did you really come here?" he has to (needs to) ask her again, because her motives are never clear.

She doesn't answer outright. "Something that you said earlier kind of _…_ stuck with me," she admits reluctantly. "Even though I kind of wish that it hadn't."

"And what was that?

"'... _I just hope the poor guy isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve. Because if he is, you'll use it against him,' "_ she parrots his words back to him. "I know that's what you think I did with you _—_ "

"Isn't it?"

"Maybe the first time around," Emily admits, "and if I'm being completely honest? I hated it. ...When we first met, you were nothing like I thought you'd be. Nothing like what I imagined the son of the people who destroyed my father and his legacy, my _life_ , to be like. You were just _—_ "

"...Easily manipulated?" he supplies, only half serious.

"You were _kind_ ," she says instead, bringing her head up to meet his gaze. And the compassionate shine in her eyes catches him off guard. "I wasn't prepared for that. I'd accounted for everything else. But then I met you and I thought that maybe there was a way to get to them without using you... but things changed."

" _I_ changed, you mean."

"We both did." Emily is sitting beside him on the couch, the mood between them considerably softer than it's been recently, the air charged with an energy Daniel feels resonating with something somewhere deep inside of him. He's very aware of how close they are to each other, and the inch of space there is between the curve of her hip and the outside of his thigh.

Daniel takes a breath and looks away from her, trying to get his bearings. "But I guess it doesn't really matter anyway, right? Since I was just a cover - an easy way to get to my parents?"

"...that's not all that you were, Daniel, you know that."

"Do I?"

"... _Yes_." She looks up at him, then. This is the part that's the same, Daniel realizes, the part that is, apparently, the one thing that _Emily_ and _Amanda_ seem to have in common: the way her eyes seem to speak before she does _—_ how they seem to say all of the things she won't allow herself to admit out loud.

And then there's the difference, which seems to exist in the vulnerability and raw honesty that has appeared more often in the last few conversations he's had with Emily recently than what he's sure is the entirety of their relationship _—_ especially the second time around.

(Still, it's at least mildly comforting to know that he _does_ know a part of her, after all.)

She still hasn't moved from her spot beside him, but she doesn't pull away from him either.

He's not sure when it happened, when exactly the space between them went from minimal to nonexistent. But it happens, almost in slow motion, it seems. " _…_ this is probably a bad idea," he whispers, referring to the diminished distance between them. He feels his heartbeat quicken, wonders if it's loud enough for her to hear.

"Probably," Emily agrees with a quick nod, even as she leans forward and presses her lips to his. Daniel doesn't do anything to stop her, as her arms find their way around his neck to pull him closer. He feels no resistance from her as he grasps her face in his hands, then buries them in her hair as he fervently kisses her back.

He's overwhelmed by contradicting emotions: the desire for her that he's always felt and apprehension about her reason for being here. He knows what she said, knows what she _told_ him, but there is still a lingering sense of doubt between them, a fleeting thought about the other's true intentions.

But then a moan escapes her as his tongue meets hers, making it all too easy for him to push those doubts to the back of his mind and focus instead on pulling her tighter against him.

-/-


	2. Guilt

**A/N:** decided to do this chapter from Emily's perspective. next chapter will most likely be the last...in the meantime, enjoy! (& review ;)

* * *

…

He really shouldn't be looking at her like that, Emily thinks.

Standing at the bar of Nolan's newly acquired beach club, she notices Daniel sitting only a few stools away. She can feel Daniel's eyes on her, even from several feet away and with all of the people in between them. The intensity of his gaze reminds her too much of days gone past, of the time they spent together when they first started dating and she still thought that, maybe, she was wrong about him; that he was the _"good"_ Grayson, and that he was different from his parents.

(Far too much of their interactions lately have her thinking about him in terms of their past relationship, of what the revelation of her identity means for how he views her now.)

Emily meets his gaze, acknowledging the drink in front of him (and the two empty glasses next to it) with a barely raised eyebrow and a slight nod. "Rough night?" she asks, making sure to keep her expression unreadable and her tone light. "What are you doing here?"

Daniel shrugs. "I'm just here, drinking to my sad life. ...And to our parents, who I'm starting to believe just might actually be in love," he says with a smirk. He raises a glass of scotch towards her in a half-assed salute.

She briefly addresses the bartender to order a drink of her own, before turning back to Daniel. He's always been a bit more... _blunt_ after he's had some scotch, she remembers.

"Oh please," Emily dismisses. "You don't honestly believe that?"

He shakes his head, but other than that doesn't really give a response. Emily wonders if Daniel even really believes what he's saying or if he's just trying to get a reaction out of her. (That does seem to be his default setting these days.)

"...You look good," he says instead of giving her an answer. It feels like a compliment and an accusation rolled into one; she's not sure, exactly, how she's supposed to take it. "You going out on a date? Want me to call the poor guy and read him his last rites?"

She scoffs lightly, putting down her drink. She's halfway finished already and she would never admit (to him or to anyone else) that she needs it to calm her nerves. It feels a lot like the first time she left the Hamptons ( _reentry_ , Takeda called it) trying to adjust to being this more transparent version of herself, particularly around Daniel. For reasons she still hasn't figured out, it makes it that much more difficult for her to continue playing her roles of deceit without worrying of the consequences for the people she's using.

She thought that she'd buried that part of herself a long time ago, but running into Daniel tonight, barely an hour before she's supposed to meet with Ben (under the guise of a date but really in the hopes of gaining more intel on her father's case) only reminds Emily how much it still bothers her occasionally.

"You know what, Daniel? I'm really not in the mood to be doing... _whatever_ this is that we've been doing lately, so _—_ "

"Oh, what? You mean having honest conversations, probably for the first time in... _ever?_ Yeah, that sucks. ...You know, I think I'm finally starting to realize why we didn't work out."

 _This I've got to hear._ "Really?" she demands, though not unkindly.

"We're the same," he continues and Emily can't help but laugh, a sound as genuine as the scoff of disbelief that follows. She wonders if he's serious. Knowing Daniel, he probably is.

"You and I are nothing alike," she denies.

"Come on; we are! You may not want to believe it but, yeah, we are. I mean, we're both stubborn as hell and we both use people to get what we want without giving a damn about who gets hurt in the process."

She's taken aback by his almost casual, yet stinging, assessment and is surprised to find there's a part of her, when she really thinks back to everything she's done since she's arrived in the Hamptons, that actually agrees with him. _Damn it._

"...That is _not_ who I am," she denies, but even to her own ears, there's no conviction behind the words and her voice sounds weak.

"Oh, but it is. _I see you,_ Emily," he insists, and it's more than just the words that affect her, it's the meaning behind them, his tone, and of course, the way that he's still looking at her. Emily shifts uneasily in response.

"So tell me, who are you hurting these days? You know what— I'll go first. So Margaux, the best woman I've been with in years, no offense," he adds hastily, to which Emily responds with an eye roll. "Well, she wants nothing more to do with me because I'm an ass."

Emily scoffs lightly. "Well, we're not friends, Daniel, so I'm not gonna prop you up and tell you to go fight for Margaux. Besides," she adds, bringing her drink to her lips, "you don't fight for anything."

She's thinking of so many times in the past he proved that to be true: the night when he officially learned the truth about the downing of Flight 197, and his parents' role in it, but in the end Daniel chose to hide behind their name; or the night when she called off their engagement the first time around, surprising herself by how much it hurt and how disappointed she was by the way he closed his hand around the ring that not five minutes before she'd been wearing, without a word or a fight or...much of anything, really.

"Huh. _Ouch_." From the look in his eyes, Emily can guess that he's thinking the same.

"Yeah, well, _'I see you,'_ too." At that, she stands up to leave. For a brief moment she feels off-kilter, so much so that this time when he slips his hand around hers, gently, to stop her from leaving, she doesn't pull away.

It's an unsettling feeling, which she hastily attributes to a little too much alcohol and spending way too much time going down memory lane with Daniel.

"Hey, Em." When she looks at him now, Emily isn't quite sure what she sees anymore. "...you know," Daniel continues, "you really do look pretty tonight...which makes me think that means you're up to something. I just hope that, whoever he is, the poor guy isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve. Because if he is, trust me, you'll use it against him."

* * *

It doesn't take long before Emily starts to think that this "date" with Ben wasn't such a good idea after all.

They've barely been sitting at the bar for twenty minutes, but she's already well into her second beer, trying to use alcohol to drown out the nagging voice at the back of her mind that sounds far too much like Daniel for her liking.

So far it doesn't seem to be working.

 _("I just hope he isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve...because if he is, you'll use it against him.")_

"...Thank you," Emily murmurs as Ben moves behind her to push in her seat. He's being the quintessential gentleman, which is honestly only making her feel worse about this.

"I was actually surprised you called," Ben admits. He looks almost bashful. "I didn't exactly make the best impression the other night."

"No, no, you were sweet. I'd just, um, I'd had a long day, so..." she trails off. She shakes her head, forces herself to smile. " _So,_ let's start over."

And so she tries to do just that, but she's distracted.

It would be so easy to blame Daniel for that, considering it's his words playing on a near constant loop in her head, keeping her from completely focusing on Ben, even as he sits right across from her. She hates how much Daniel has been on her mind lately, and not just tonight.

She hates how she can't seem to get his words out of her head or shake off the feeling left behind from their interactions, which weigh heavy on her mind and heart. It's been a long time ( _too long_ ) since she's allowed herself to just _feel_ something and whatever it is that she and Daniel have been doing lately is stirring up things that were best left buried.

"...You know, you actually kind of remind me of my ex-wife," Ben tosses out, almost casually, in the middle of their game of pool _._ "She never let me win at anything either."

"I, uh, didn't know you were married." Internally, she freezes, not expecting to hear that. She didn't know he'd been married. _How could I not have known that?_ The revelation catches her off guard, more than it probably should have.

Ben nods. "Yep. Yeah, we were way too young. I thought she was the only person in the world that got me, you know? Turns out she was just using me to deal with her past," he continues and Emily starts to feel nauseated.

"One day, I woke up, she was just gone. Guess I'd served my purpose," Ben surmises with a shrug.

She tells herself that it's not the same, that whatever happened between Ben and his wife, it didn't compare to her and Daniel. But the similarities are just enough to give her pause, enough to make her question everything she's done tonight.

(" _…was any of it real?"_ )

"How did you do it?" Emily finds herself asking him, though she's not entirely sure why. "Move on, I mean?"

"I buried myself in work, graduated top of my rookie class..."

She hasn't realized she's tuned out of the conversation until suddenly Ben is looking at her differently, his head tilted a little to the side. "So when's your deadline?" he asks. At her frown he adds, "You know, on this exposé that I'm assuming you're writing on Alvarez?"

"I'm not writing anything," Emily quickly denies and even though it's technically the truth, she still feels uneasy. "I'm—I'm just curious."

"...Me, too." He leans in and whether it's for a kiss or to simply be closer to her, Emily can't be sure—she's really off her game tonight— but she blocks Ben's touch by quickly grabbing his wrist, a purely instinctual reaction.

("… _we were doomed from the start_ , _weren't we?")_

"Whoa."

 _Shit_. She drops her hands, letting him go and taking a step back. "I—I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me—"

"Something tells me that this isn't a date."

"Ben—"

He shakes his head, seemingly understanding in spite of his obvious disappointment. "You know what? I'm just gonna take care of the bar tab. …I think we should call it a night."

Emily nods, knowing that there's nothing else that she can do but agree.

* * *

Standing in front of the door to Daniel's hotel room, Emily starts to second guess herself for coming, a feeling she's not at all used to having.

While this newfound brand of honesty they've been sharing has started to change things between them, she still knows that she is probably the last person he's expecting to see tonight.

She doesn't know what it is that they've been doing lately, wouldn't be able to define what's been happening between them if anyone were to ask; but in spite of everything, there's a wonder within her, a curiosity about where this is headed outweighs whatever caution and apprehension she should probably have about coming here tonight. She knocks on the door before she can talk herself out of it. She can't remember being this unsure of herself; there's something about when Daniel is involved that shifts her off center—especially lately. She takes a breath as the door swings open, revealing him standing on the other side.

"Emily." He says her name in a way that makes her wonder if there's a part of him that isn't actually surprised to see her here.

She shrugs, shifting her stance and she leans her shoulder against the doorway. "Mind if I come in?"

He doesn't answer her immediately. Instead he asks, "What are you doing here?"

" _…_ Curiosity got the best of me," she echoes his previous words back to him, causing a glimmer of a smile to cross his features. She looks up at him and he finally relents, gesturing for her to come in. Even though it's what she wants, Emily finds herself hesitating in that brief moment before she steps across the threshold into his room. Only a moment.

When he asks her again why she's here, Emily doesn't answer outright. She considers avoiding the truth versus just admitting it, admitting that the things he's said earlier have kind of stuck with her, regardless of how much she wishes that they hadn't.

"Something that you said earlier kind of…stuck with me," she admits reluctantly. "Even though I kind of wish that it hadn't."

"And what was that?"

" _'...I just hope_ _the poor guy isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve. Because if he is, you'll use it against him,'_ " she parrots his words back to him. "I know that's what you think I did with you—"

"Isn't it?"

He's gotten under her skin somehow, in spite of all the time she spent training with Takeda in Japan learning how to harness and compartmentalize her own emotions while capitalizing on someone else's. It bothers her far more than it should, the fact that Daniel claims to not know a real thing about her.

Maybe it's because of her father, who Emily has caught on more than one occasion looking at her with a slight disappointment in his eyes, that the hopeful optimistic girl he left behind almost twenty years ago doesn't seem to exist anymore.

Maybe that's why she's here tonight, fighting to convince Daniel (and herself) of something she's not even completely sure she wants yet.

(" _Was any of it real?"_ )

"...I guess it doesn't really matter anyway, right? Since I was just a cover - an easy way for you to get to my parents?"

Emily tsks in disagreement, shaking her head. Even though she understands why that's the conclusion he's reached, it still doesn't sit well with her. "...that's not all that you were, Daniel, you know that."

"Do I?"

"... _Yes_." she insists, bringing her gaze up to meet his.

In the blink of an eye, it seems, the space between them has gone from minimal to nonexistent. Emily suddenly finds herself mere inches away from Daniel, close enough for her to feel the warmth emanating from his body, the vibration of his breathing. She feels her own heartbeat quicken, an uncharacteristic flutter of nerves in her belly.

"…this is probably a bad idea," Daniel whispers, referring to the diminished distance between them.

"Probably," Emily agrees with a quick nod, even as she leans forward and presses her lips to his. But Daniel doesn't do anything to stop her, as her arms find their way around his neck to pull him closer to her.

She's overwhelmed by contradicting emotions: the desire for him that she's always felt, on some level— whether she wanted to admit it or not— and an uncertainty about what this will mean once she goes through with this. Of course there is still a lingering sense of doubt between them, a fleeting thought about the true nature of the other's intentions.

But then she opens her mouth underneath his, a soft moan escaping her as his tongue meets hers, making it all too easy for Emily to give in to the feeling of laying underneath him and melding her body to his.

* * *

It's not the brightness of the sun shining through the thin curtains that wakes her up the next morning.

It's not even the noise of early morning traffic drifting in through the open window. No; instead it's the feeling of her body pressed against his, the warm and vaguely familiar— yet long forgotten— feeling of anticipation mixed with butterflies in the pit of her stomach as she realizes where she is.

Emily briefly closes her eyes, breathing a sigh of disappointment at her lack of resolve.

She'd let Daniel get to her; she'd allowed their past (and whatever it is that's happening between them now) to affect her to the point that she lowered her guard last night and so easily fell into Daniel's bed.

Being with him was easy in a way that she hadn't anticipated. It didn't feel marred by guilt for the secret she was keeping, much like the first summer they were together; it wasn't heavy with expectation, the weight of clearing her father's name looming over her every decision.

In the moment, it felt good to shut her mind off. In the moment, it was less about deciding to be with him than it was about allowing herself to just _feel_ , something Emily hasn't done in... she can't even remember how long. (It certainly helps that they've never had any problems when it came to this; in spite of all of the lies and manipulation, there had always been a sense of ease to their intimacy that always felt natural, no matter how much Emily tried to ignore it.

It was easier to let down the stone walls of _Emily_ _Thorne_ —built to protect the fragile heart of _Amanda_ _Clarke_ she refuses to admit exists— under the veiled darkness of the bedroom.

Sleeping with him is easy. It's dealing with everything that happens afterwards that's difficult. It's one of the few fall-outs she wasn't prepared for; there's no plan for this, because she never expected for this to happen again.

 _...Now_ _what?_

Emily holds her breath as she sits up, carefully trying to untangle her body and legs from Daniel's without waking him. She's sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him when she hears him stirring awake behind her. "Hey," he murmurs, softly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the room.

She stops moving, just as she's leaning over to retrieve her clothes from the floor. Emily looks over her shoulder at him, trying not to let her guilt at being "caught" show so clearly on her face. "Hey. Sorry...I was trying not to wake you," she covers and it's not exactly a lie.

"How considerate," he returns and Emily doesn't miss the sarcastic bite to his tone.

She's hit by a sudden and inexplicable urge to apologize, but swallows it down in favor of a sigh. "Nothing's changed, Daniel," she says quietly, looking at him over her bare shoulder. He's lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. "I mean, I'm still—"

"I know," he interrupts her, though he sounds more resigned than angry and she doesn't like that it bothers her.

( _He never fights for anything_.)

"We can't go backwards," she insists but at this point even Emily has to wonder who exactly she is trying to convince. The implication is that too much has happened in the past to change the future but she doesn't know if she believes that anymore—especially now that he knows who she is and somehow in spite of everything they still ended up here: waking up naked in his bed, with her head on his chest and his arm wrapped around her waist.

Old habits, and all that.

He catches her attention by slipping his hand around her wrist, rubbing his thumb against the tattoo inscribed there: the double infinity symbol. "Really? Because _this_ kind of says otherwise. I mean, doesn't Infinity basically mean never ending?"

She ducks her head in spite of the fact that it does nothing to put any space in between them— if anything the action only brings them closer together— just to avoid looking directly at him. "Not exactly. Besides it's not about you."

"But it still applies, right?"

"Daniel—" She fidgets, shaking her head. He's still holding onto her wrist, Emily realizes. Apparently, there's something about her eagerness to leave that only seems to egg him on to want to keep talking. "It doesn't matter. Daniel, last night...That can't happen again," she says firmly, meeting his eyes this time as she pulls away from him. "It will never be like it was—"

" ' _Like it was'_ doesn't exist—it never did. Only now we both know it. ...Unless that's the real issue? The fact that you're not in control of everything anymore?"

"That's not what this is about."

"Could've fooled me."

Instead of continuing this line of conversation that feels too much like it's going nowhere, Emily gathers up the rest of her things and leaves, slamming the door behind her. She leans against it as she takes a deep breath, urging herself to ignore the strong desire to go back inside.

 _Nothing's_ _changed,_ Emily chastises herself. She is still Amanda Clarke, the daughter of a man infamously framed for global terrorism —in spite of everything she's done to distance herself from that reality. And he is still Daniel Grayson, the son of the people who altered the course of her life forever— no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

There's no way that all of _this_ —all of the lives ruined and ended; every awful thing they've said and done to each other—ends with the two of them together, riding off into the sunset.

 _Nothing's_ _changed_. It's what she keeps telling herself over the next several days: through the lack of concrete answers from her father about where he's been for the past twenty years and the distance put between them for, in David's words, " _her_ _own_ _safety_ ". It's what Emily tells herself throughout her frustration with being unable to pry her father from Victoria's clutches— and then later feeling vaguely hypocritical about it considering what happened between her and Daniel only recently. (She imagines that David would probably feel the same, especially if she were to tell him who really shot her on her wedding night.) It's all so twisted and there are far too many parallels between the two situations for Emily not to notice, and take heed.

She is her father's daughter, after all, but there's a part of her that wants to wholeheartedly believe what deep down she already knows to be true: that Daniel is nothing like _his_ mother.

After all, he sought her out after he found out the truth from Charlotte when he could have (and probably _should_ have) chosen to simply never see her again; Emily certainly wouldnt have blamed him. And despite his initial anger about her lies and everything Emily hid from him, there's been an air of remorse around him lately that's been hard to ignore. Emily can't help but wonder if that's what has been pulling her toward him, or if it's something else entirely.

There's a sense of comfort with Daniel that Emily's never acknowledged before, mostly out of fear of how admitting something like that would affect her mission and she knew that Takeda never would have approved. But now that her father's name has been cleared, that's not an issue anymore.

 _Nothing's_ _changed,_ she tries to convince herself and yet...she still finds herself back at his doorstep, in spite of everything, anxiously awaiting his answer.

(So maybe something _has_ changed.)

-/-


End file.
